


wilting roses;prickling thorns

by adreamerstale



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, Hanahaki Disease
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26262634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamerstale/pseuds/adreamerstale
Summary: “Most women suffer thorns for the sake of the flowers, but we who wield power adorn ourselves with flowers to hide the sting of our thorns”― Leigh Bardugo, King of ScarsZoya and Nikolai came back to a country that was in shambles, an undercover princess with intent to kill, and a siege on the border prepared to dethroned the King of Ravka. Here, there was no time to rest, no time to ponder on feelings.Here, Zoya and Nikolai have to do what they have done best: to keep each other marching and to keep Ravka standing on her feet.And here they were: two months before Nikolai and Ehri’s wedding, each to the other’s thought and task.And then Nikolai started vomiting red.Blood red.Rose petal red.
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Comments: 17
Kudos: 37
Collections: Grishaverse Big Bang 2020





	1. planting the seed

If they thought going all around Ravka would fix the matter, they were clearly wrong. Because this is Ravka we’re talking about, and something was going to go wrong, something beyond their expectations. After all that had happened, and everything still happening, Zoya suspects she needs a bottle of _kvas_ to deal with everything. One of the problems now, at least, is being detained at one of the palace rooms, still trying his best to charm people. 

But Zoya would not listen to him.

Not after everything that happened. 

Not after Lilyana. 

She sighed, making her way to the war room, where she would meet with Nikolai to talk about the Fjerdan party on the border. The campaign was getting nearer day by day, and while it hadn't reached Ravka yet, it felt like a highly-explosive time bomb, one that would explode anytime if they waited too long. She voiced this concern to Nikolai. 

“But sometimes you need to wait. Patience is a virtue, Zoya,” Nikolai said. His stance was relaxed, but his face hardened. Fingers on the map, Zoya knew that he was a little bit baffled by this—the siege and the claim to the throne—as much as her. The Fjerdans were usually an arrogant, annoying neighbor, but they weren’t this forward and aggressive. To claim the throne of Ravka means they knew something was hidden in the Grand Palace. 

Both Zoya and Nikolai guessed what it was. 

“We’ve waited. And it cost an attempt on your life,” Zoya replied. The death of Isaak was not only a shock but a slap to the face. Zoya didn’t personally know him, unlike Nikolai, who pretty much knew everyone who he met with. But she knew what death meant to the families of people like him. How serving the country is not only an honor but a means to get out of poverty. She was one of them. 

_You’re still one of them_ , she thought. The dragon scale on her wrist throbbed, a reminder of what was happening on their trip. Of Juris' reminder, of who she was. General Nazyalenksy was born not out of loyalty alone, but out of the knowledge that nothing was waiting for her had she stayed. That knowledge had also shaped her to see the way the power shifts; why people get drawn to power. Because being powerless makes you vulnerable, and vulnerability makes you prey. 

This, ironically, also applied to this saintsforsaken country. 

“You’re right. It also cost Isaak’s life,” Nikolai mused, his eyes scanning the papers in front of him, touching a paper that had Genya’s loopy and neat handwriting in it. There was another thing that hung between them, a thing that neither of them wanted to talk about. The wedding preparations for Nikolai and Ehri, for no matter what happened, Shu Han were always a good ally in this game of political bargain. 

And marriage could have sealed it all. They already sent word to the Shu Han about the marriage, and the response they got back was, diplomatically, played to their merits. The Shu gave their blessing for the marriage, and seemed eager to have their Princess going into marriage to one of their ‘strongest allies’, and they were excited to ‘build a stronger future connection’. When Ehri heard this, she smiled a sad smile, and Nikolai knew too well that her smile belonged to a Princess cast-off from the throne. 

While Genya had been enthusiastic (really when it comes to planning, when is she not), Zoya had been silent. Deep down she knew that Ravka would always come first, and whatever happened between them, the shared feelings on their journey, the shared sentiment, would have stopped at the feeling of being a King and a General. Still, whenever she saw the details of the wedding and the preparation that followed, there was a pang in her heart. 

She took the paper from him, folded it, and set it aside. He smirked; one of the teasing smirks that made Zoya wants to slap his face. 

“Aren’t you eager to see me in a wedding suit? Genya says they made one with velvet,” he said lightly. Zoya shakes her head, her hand resting on another letter, this one sealed with a crest of pigeon. The letters were from Nina, who had been residing inside Jarl Brum’s house for almost a year now. 

When Leoni and Adrik came back without her, Zoya was furious. Yet again, Nina deviated from the original plan, and yet again she made her own. What made her even more furious was that this girl dared to plan from the commander of the drüskelle’s house and not tell them a single thing she would do. Not until the letters started arriving, detailing, in code, her plan. Getting cozy with Jarl Brum’s daughter was her first step. Zoya sighed at that, Nina’s type seems to be a misguided Fjerdan. 

Now, the letter in her hands said differently. It seems like Nina has been with the party that was at the Ravkan border, and Zoya didn’t know how, but she got people to desert. She will be coming home with a crate of fireworks, she said in her letter. And while that was a piece of delightful news, both Zoya and Nikolai felt like Nina alone wouldn’t be able to stop the Fjerdans’ troops. Especially when they had a claim to the throne. 

“Your wedding has to be held soon,” Zoya said plainly. The wedding was not their only weapon against the Fjerdan Ravka did not train the soldiers lightly. But peaceful union was more lasting than another war, and Ravka really couldn’t afford another one right now. Rotten corruption has sucked almost every available resource, and they rely on donations and debts. In other words: war, not only costs life, but also money. 

Something they didn’t have. 

“It won’t solve everything, but it’ll have to do. What worries me more is that even if the party gets smaller, they still hover around the border. I doubt Nina could make them all desert, though her flair is rather genius, if you ask me,” Nikolai replied. 

“Discarding the original plan, making the drüskelle leader’s home her base, and marching with the soldiers is what you called genius?” Zoya said. 

“We should keep an eye on her. Her movements are unpredictable, and we do not know what will happen in the future. This is what I’ve warned you about,” Zoya sighed, her hands now resting on the steaming cup of tea that she poured herself. This plan gave her a headache, and she wished she had something stronger than tea to ease herself. While she examined the piles of paperwork, letters, and maps that were scattered around her, she noticed another cup went untouched. When she looked up, she saw something was different with Nikolai today.

Nikolai was always a blinding light—all shows, all flair. Today something looked like it had dimmed his light. Zoya couldn’t blame him, but she asked anyway. Her question was met with a smirk, that immediately brushed off her concern.  
“Common cold,” he said. “Maybe if you stopped being so cold to me, it would go away, Zoya,” he replied and winked. She glared, but brushed her concerns aside. This was their usual dynamic, something familiar; it meant that while Ravka was on fire, there was nothing wrong with him.

Still, she zapped his wrist. The little yelp he let out was almost the highlight of her day.

***


	2. chapter 2: watering the plant

If anyone was eager to plan a party, it was Genya. 

Right now, she walked alongside Zoya, chattering nonstop about silk, patterns, and invitations. She worked with Ehri to plan the wedding, and they got along surprisingly well. Though Zoya couldn’t imagine anyone not befriending Genya, she has this way with people’s hearts, a way to make you open up to her even if you didn’t want to. 

They finally arrived at the guest room, where Ehri has been residing. On the bed, there were yards and yards of silk—most of them red and gold. The princess herself sat in front of the mirror, her long black locks flowing behind her. Her robes, adorned with little champagne-roses flowers and gold leaf, touched the floor. 

Genya called her, and she turned around, a smile on her face. Zoya admits that her beauty shines through, even in daily attire, she shone. She could already picture her in the wedding gown, the red silk with gold embroidery making her shine more, her hair up in the usual style she wore, up and decorated with flowers. Ravka would have a powerful, but also loveable queen. 

Ravka would have Ehri as Queen, and she should be grateful, but something tugged at her heartstrings. 

Genya had moved to the bed, now examining every piece of silk intensely. She talked about it with Ehri, the choice of the fabrics, the color, the symbolism, the design. Zoya tuned them out, moving to the side to let them debate their choices for the wedding robe and stared at them silently. Every fabric they laid out was more beautiful than the last, and the room now looked like an explosion of materials, fabrics strewn across every surface . She moved carefully between the fabrics, trying not to destroy the delicate and precious silks. 

Genya and Ehri sat on the bed, talking like they’ve been friends for a long time. Zoya stands, not knowing what to do. Her recent attempts at conversations (not in this room, but attempts were made) to Ehri has been…icy. It seems like they both recognized each other as warriors, and fiercely raised their wall to protect their interest. Zoya’s Ravka; hers Shu. 

She understands her. They were like-minded people. 

She was about to leave the room when she heard Ehri asking questions. 

“Is the King alright? I noticed he got paler when we met. Is he sick? Will he get better by spring?,” she said with a gentle tone. Zoya’s ears perked up. She too, noticed it this morning. The fact that Ehri talked about it sends rage throughout her body. For the first time since she entered the room, Zoya spoke. 

“Oh, so now you are worried that he is sick and not dead?” she snapped. The hostility of her voice startled both Genya and Ehri. She saw Ehri’s smirk, and then she was back in her quiet, gentle princess voice. Zoya’s blood boiled; she did not buy this ‘gentle princess’ act a single bit. Someone who spent weeks masquerading as a soldier while planning an assassination to the King was not to be trusted. 

“Oh, I am merely voicing my concerns, General. After all, he is to be my husband. Am I not allowed to be worried about his well-being?” she said in a sickly sweet way, and Zoya wanted to scream. She held it in for Genya’s sake. She had been signaling her, silently, to ruin this moment of quiet diplomacy. Genya held her tongue, and Zoya’s hands tightened onto the silk in her hands. Ehri smiled and continued in the conversation in the same, gentle tone. 

“Besides, I’m not the only one concerned! Genya just mentioned that she suspects the King is ill. She thinks he’s vomiting blood. You should be worried, General. The future of the country lies in his hands and he doesn’t seem well,” she said with a sad, little tone, and Zoya snaps. The silk she had been clutching ripped apart, and she can feel hot, white anger boiling in her veins. 

“Thank you for your  _ concern  _ for our King, Princess. I sure hope that the concerns will keep you up at night because as you mentioned, he is your future husband and you are under  _ our protection _ ,” she replied, then without any hesitation, walked away from the room, not caring that she stomped many valuable silks along the way. She heard Genya apologized to Ehri, but she couldn’t care less. 

She made her way to her room, shut the door, and started thinking. Nikolai’s wedding to Ehri will strengthen their political alliance, but Fjerda can still ally with Kerch, and that will make certain trouble, especially with Jurda and all. She needs to plan this alongside Nikolai, especially since there was no guarantee both Ehri or the Shu would keep up with their end of the bargain. 

As if the Saints couldn’t give her a break, someone delivered a letter to her from Nina. She cursed under her breath. This girl had to plan everything by herself, and not send a peep until the last minute? She and Nikolai didn't know what the hell was going on, and things went awry. Zoya scanned over the letter, “She traded lore and myth, she wrote, fiction and legend.” 

“Do you think that you’re a new Saint?” she shouted to no one in particular, as she burned the letter completely. To get rid of the letter from spies, as well as expressing her sentiment towards the plan. Nina and her improvisations of living old legends can burn in hell, she thought. Recklessly driving herself towards crazy ideas, lacking discipline…Zoya needs to have a word with her when she gets back. 

But first, she needs to talk to Nikolai. 

And maybe check up on whether Genya and Ehri’s suspicions were true. 

***

Nikolai was there in the war room, back hunched towards the map of Ravka. His fingers traced the outline of the border, the campaign now still standing despite many deserters. Nikolai ponders at this. Why would they still be standing at the border, but show no sign of attack? Surely, there weren’t that many deserters that the campaign had lost all of their soldiers? 

His train of thought was interrupted by Zoya’s presence. His general, like always, wore a mask of indifference. She sat in front of him, her eyes trailing his fingers tracing the map. “It can’t all be Nina’s right?” he asked, mind reeling over the fact. 

Zoya rolled her eyes. Once again, Nina had retracted from the original plan and somehow made deserters out of many Fjerdan soldiers.  _ I traded myth and lore, fiction, and legend _ , she had said in her latest letter. Nina made people desert by making little ‘miracles’, Zoya explained to Nikolai, basing them on local myths, lore, and fiction. Quite a few people deserted, believing what they were doing a contrast to their belief. The letter made Zoya’s anger burn and Nikolai suppressed his mirth.  _ This was certainly not going according to plan, _ he thought.  _ But a little improvisation I did not mind.  _

__ But now, said improvisation had left them confused for a simple reason: they didn’t read the script. 

“I doubt Nina and her stories had that much power to inspire a coup d’état," Zoya mused. She too was confused by this sudden stop of a force. It was a warning, a gun held to Ravka’s head. Now, how could they stop this gun from firing through the country’s heart? ? 

“Are the Kerch involved by any means?” Nikolai asked. Zoya had received reports that there was an unusual meeting at someone of the merchant council’s home. A whisper traded between parties and dances. Mailing disguised as a contract. The Kerch were involved, as usual when there was gold on the table. And as bankrupted as Ravka was, the promise of the Lanstov’s gold never looked more tempting. 

“They are playing it safe and secret, as usual,” Zoya answered. Nikolai traced the map again, head deep into thought. As they sat together, what Ehri said to Zoya went into her mind _. Genya just mentioned that she suspects the King is ill. She thinks he’s vomiting blood. You should be worried, General. The future of the country lies in his hands and he doesn’t seem well.  _ Yesterday Nikolai dismissed it as nothing, blaming the harsh winter. Zoya doubts someone who has survived the journey around Ravka, and to another realm, would be affected by a little snow.

As if Nikolai was reading her thoughts, , he coughed heavily; his hands started reaching for a cup of tea between them. Zoya was about to go to her usual comment, the easy sarcastic, spiteful banter, when she noticed something red sprouting out of his mouth. It certainly looked like blood.  _ Was Ehri right? Was he sick as she feared _ ? He finished his tea but coughed more heavily this time, and Zoya got out of her seat to look at his condition. 

On his palm, there was something red and scattered. Zoya immediately knew it was not blood, but blood would have been easier to believe than this. When he opened his palm, it was not blood that Zoya saw. 

It was red rose petals. 

Nikolai was coughing up rose petals. 

***


	3. chapter 3; nursing the root

**Chapter 3: nursing the root.**

When the coughing did not stop, Zoya panicked. She did not believe her eyes, how could someone cough up a _rose petal_ , out of all things? But now, when the petals rained in front of her, showering the map and the letters with red, she had no choice other than panicking. How are you supposed to fix this? What caused this to happen? Was it Elizaveta? But she and Juris had her cornered—at least for a while. How did she find them here? The memories of Elizaveta’s words stirred in her mind, of how she knew the shifts in Nikolai’s energy; of how she was the one who unleashed the monster inside him out into the world. 

_No_ , she thought, her mind racing through a thousand possibilities. Nikolai sat slumped on the chair, his face pale. She reached for the cup, giving it to him and he drank it gratefully. Still gripped with fear, she rings for a servant to call Genya, who upon receiving the urgent call, ran into the room with an alarmed look on her face. She saw Nikolai's pale face and Zoya’s concerned one, and immediately asked for an explanation. 

Zoya’s stunned expression said nothing. She picked up a single rose petal and said “Elizaveta.” 

Genya stared at the petals littering on the map, and she shook her head, confused. Zoya explained what happened: how she and Nikolai were just conversing, and then he suddenly coughed up a rose petal. The coughing did not stop, and the more he coughed, the more the petals rained. Through all of this, Nikolai stayed silent, as if the coughing had sucked all the energy out of him. 

“And you decided that this is Elizaveta’s doing?” Genya asked. She seemed skeptical of Zoya’s reasoning. Sometimes, Zoya had a feeling that Genya did not quite believe her story of meeting the Saints. Which was understandable, Zoya herself wouldn’t believe it if someone had told her that they met the Saints, that were _supposed_ to be dead, that the stories she heard as a child, the ones she considered metaphors and moral lessons, were real.

Genya did not meet Elizaveta though, and did not fall for her convincing act, only to be a target for her betrayal at the end. Genya never realized how strong Elizaveta was, that her power was out of this world; the Old one that shaped the world around them. If there was something that Zoya learned on their journey, it was that the Saints were not _using_ the power; they were the power _itself_ , the hunger and greed that feeds on the fears and adoration towards them. Not only was Elizaveta a Sankta, she was an Old God who demands to be raised and rule over them. 

And yet, Zoya felt a kinship to her, a kinship rooted in adoration and fear. 

“Then explain the rose petal,” she said instead. She suspects that Genya would never fully understand what happened on their journey. She would never connect the rose petal to the Sankta, nor flinch at the sight of a bee in the garden. That was something only Nikolai and Zoya shared an understanding of, meeting a Goddess who could make a tame and gentle animal into a deadly weapon,and a single flower, meant to signify love, into a symbol of sacrifice through blood. 

Genya sighed, realizing that she could not solve the riddle of the petals. “Let’s call a Healer for now, they at least know what to do with….all of this,” she finally said. When she turned around to call them, however, Nikolai decided to intervene. A low sound escapes his throat, a barely audible ‘No’. This was followed by incoherent babbling about the discretion of his condition and how no one should know. Both Genya and Zoya glared at him. This was not a situation where they wanted to deal with his stubbornness. His life is on the line, and being stubborn as a rock was not going to help. 

“No. You listen to me, Nikolai. You just coughed up a rose petals and clearly tha is not supposed to be inside someone’s body,” Genya took a deep breath before continuing, “We don’t know what caused this, and Saints help me if you are going to be all ‘but-keep-it-a-secret-to-the-whole-kingdom’ we are going to find out what causes this _first_ ,” Genya said, a tone of finality in her voice. Zoya felt like she could hug her at this moment. Genya’s motherly instinct was something she took for granted in the past. 

“So, stay still and trust us. I’m going to get help,” she said, hurrying outside, to call for a Healer. Zoya watched her go and then turned her eyes onto Nikolai again. He was a mess; the petals still clung into him—on his clothes, his palm, his hair, and his face pale, contrasting the sea of reds around him. He was still slumped on the chair, almost as if he had no support to sit straight. Zoya helped him sit up and fixed his clothes—some buttons had come undone when he was heaving, and she could see a ghost of a smile on his lip, no doubt a hint of teasing. 

“Ah, General Nazyalensky, you’re playing the role of my lovely wife once again,” Nikolai chuckled. The playfulness of his tone doesn’t translate to his eyes, which were still vacant of life. Zoya took a closer look at him, and she saw that his lip was dry. Earlier, while she was fixing his cloth, she could feel that he was burning with a fever. _With a fever this high, no wonder he was babbling at Genya,_ she thought. Zoya said nothing, as Nikolai coughed up more petals onto the table, drowning the entire map in a sea of rose red. She noticed, though, that the petals were getting smaller, and hoped that was a good sign. 

Finally, Genya arrived with a Healer. A Ravkan boy, new to the second army. He squirmed under Zoya’s gaze, but when he saw Nikolai slumped on the chair, he gasped. An understanding enters his face. The King was sick and he was supposed to examine him. He was already pale when he saw Genya Safin called him, but realizing what he faced, his small face got even paler; his brown eyes glanced at the three of them with a scared look on his face. As if asking for permission, he gestured at Nikolai, and when Zoya gave him a silent nod he finally took a look at the King. 

The boy—Genya said his name was Dimitri—crouched and examined Nikolai who had somehow slumped back down on his chair. The boy checked his pulse, and when he sensed there was nothing out of ordinary, began an examination on his chest, where he _did_ sense something was out of ordinary. He frowned when he touched Nikolai’s chest, and the frown deepened when he touched Nikolai’s left side, his eyes widening when he sensed something on the veins along with the King’s heart. Zoya and Genya watched this from the side, her own pulse quickening. If something happened to Nikolai, this country would be doomed. 

_She_ would be doomed. 

“What is it?” she whispered, hiding the fear in her voice, her entire body tense. Beside her, Genya also stiffened. Both of them now realising how terrible this is, their attention fixed on Dimitri and Nikolai. Dimitri stands up, finishing his examination while sneaking a bewildered look at Nikolai and the petals scattered around him. 

Finally, he answered. 

“I sense a blockage in his lungs, and also near his heart. I am not completely sure what it is, but I sense something…..alive and growing. You said he is coughing up rose petals?” the boy said, brushing the rose petals on the table with his fingers. Both Zoya and Genya nodded, too tense to say anything else. 

“Then the petals might be from the roses growing inside his lungs, and from what I can sense, there are also thorns there,” he said grimly. “One of them almost pierced his heart.” The sentence was met with an immediate silence from the other three. Nikolai let out a tired sigh. A rose blossoming in his lungs, a thorn almost piercing into his heart. If this is an opening of a fairytale, he would have applauded the storyteller for thinking of such a thorough metaphor. Sadly, this is no fairytale, it was the reality and his life was on the line. 

“What do you think caused this?” Zoya finally asked. Her mind buzzing with theories. . The boy shakes his head. He never heard of something like this before. A disease like the ones in the fairytales, something a parent would tell their children to frighten them. _Don’t swallow the seed, or it will grow inside you, finish your meal, lest the food will cry_ , they would say. Something like this needed research in the library; a look in the lore of books, for Demitri could sense that this was no ordinary illness. For now, the most he could do was “snip” the flowers and the thorns, to diminish them quickly. But like a plant, they would grow back in the future. 

Genya and Zoya shared a look, one that unnerved Dimitri. The boy unintentionally hid behind Genya, the one he felt less likely to murder him with a look of his gaze. Zoya scowled and nodded to Genya. The Tailor slipped away to the side, clearly not wanting to take a part in Zoya’s oncoming “lecture” for the boy. Zoya stared at him coldly before speaking. 

“I want to make it clear. When you walked out of this room, you saw nothing out of the ordinary inside. You know nothing about what happened to the King. If I catch even a single whisper about the King being sick, I will track you down and question you myself, and I am not a kind interviewer. _Are we clear?_ ” she stared at him long enough to make him understand she meant her words. When she saw him gulp at her words, she let him go with a promise to report back to her two days from now. 

When the door closed behind them, Zoya turned to face Genya and Nikolai. “Now what?” she said hopelessly. A disease from a fairytale, a cure not yet known, an approaching the deadline for the marriage, and the Fjerdans’ troop. All her thoughts were swimming inside, and Zoya barely heard Genya’s voice, asking them about postponing Nikolai’s wedding. Zoya and Nikolai both snapped a harsh ‘no’, and Genya frowned at both of them. 

“The troops are waiting for us at the border Genya, and they eager to strike. If we don’t present them with a wedding invitation soon, they will attack,” Nikolai said, his voice still hoarse from the relentless coughing. Zoya silently agreed with him, though for a different reason: while she thinks inviting the troops _would_ be a careless move, postponing the marriage means delaying the Shu Han’s offer for diplomacy, and Saints knew loyalty could change. They needed a powerful ally to play this deadly game of politics. 

“First of all, and I know _someone_ agrees with me on this—” Genya eyed Zoya with a secretive glance “—inviting the troops will do more harm than good. What if they plan to assassinate you at the wedding, where everyone would be off-guard?” She raised her hand before Nikolai got a chance to protest. “Second of all, if we go with this plan, then we need to make sure that you are in your best condition and not _coughing up rose petals_ , which will raise suspicions among the guests, as well as the whole country. Don’t you want this… _condition_ to be a secret?” she said, raising her brows. Nikolai mused on this and his reply came all raspy. 

“I don’t plan to invite all the troops, only the leader. At the very least it’ll show that we are tying the unity, and not only bluffing. But this…the complications were unseen back then,” Nikolai said glumly, and Zoya eyed both of them with frustration in her eyes. There were two problems in front of her with absolutely no solutions. She put her hands on her temple, massaging them lightly. How to get away from this nonsense? 

“We still have to postpone the wedding because of this complication. You can't be at the wedding while you are sick, Nikolai. That will send the wrong message; that you are dying on a throne. We are postponing this wedding effective immediately, at least until we find a way to suppress the symptoms,” Genya said with a stern tone. 

“How do you even cure a fairytale disease?” Nikolai said, chuckling tiredly. They became silent again, still too stunned to realize that this was a reality. _A fairytale disease_ , Zoya thought. How marvelous her life would be if this was all a fairytale, if she was just a character in a story written by an author who loves to toy with her fate. But her life was not a fairytale. It. Never was, and will never be. 

“We read, and hope that it will guide us to the cure,” she said, already standing up to go to the library. She was General Nazyalensky, and she would not be brooding while she could do something. She would fight, and she would fix all of this. Fate would regret playing with her like her life was just a game in their childlike hands. 

Because this time, she would make sure she wins. 

***


	4. chapter 4: blooming the flowers;

**chapter 4: blooming the flowers;**

It has been two weeks. Two weeks of relentless pacing and frantic searching in every book in the library, with almost no clue whatsoever. Nikolai's condition worsened, he didn’t just cough up a petal or two, but a bunch of them at once. He looked paler than ever, and the sickness started to affect his ability to speak. His voice became raspy, and it thinned into a whisper. Dimitri had trimmed the bushes on his lungs, but it grew more rapidly than before, forming their own forest inside his lungs. 

And so, it became a new source of headache for the General. Scratch that, it became the new source of headache for almost everyone who knew his condition. As for now, he currently laid down in his bed, two worried women by his bedside. One of the two women looked very annoyed, while the other one looked sad. Nikolai had finished his daily dose of trimmings, and Ehri had insisted to come and see him seated on the edge on his bed. Zoya’s eyes followed her every movement, suspicious.

“General, if I wanted to kill him, I would already do so. You needn't look so suspicious,” she said calmly. She grasped Nikolai's weak hand, and reassuring Shu escaped from her lips. Zoya scowled, but let her be. It seems like Ehri knew something about Nikolai’s sickness, and she intended to have the information. And to have that, she had to be at least on the speaking term with the Princess.

Ehri stood from the bed and motioned towards Zoya to follow her. Zoya eyed Nikolai, who lay on the bed peacefully one more time, before she followed the Princess towards the corridor, closing the door behind her gently. Ehri waited outside, her hand outstretched to her, and Zoya, against her will, took it. The two women walked, and while they were holding hands, the silence between them was deafening and awkward.

“How is the progress of the cure?” Ehri asked. Zoya schooled her feature to be unreadable and calm, even though she was panicking on the inside. Dimitri had reported to her that he had found nothing inside the books, and for now he couldn’t do anything but trim the bushes that grew inside Nikolai’s lungs. Daily trimming always left him feeling exhausted, so Zoya usually goes with him to the sessions, making sure that he was unharmed and actually resting before going on his daily task again.

“We’ve made quite a remarkable process,” she said. In reality, they found nothing. They had searched every book, had sought every healer and interpreted every legend. Nothing came up in their search. Their entire team was frustrated, and they were quite convinced that this was something out of a story book and not reality. If Nikolai didn’t lay there every day, coughing up petals half to death, they would have believed so.

Ehri looked at her gently, her eyes scanning Zoya’s face. Suddenly, the General felt very vulnerable, as if those pair of eyes were tearing into her soul. Finally, Ehri shakes her head, not quite believing Zoya’s bluff. “You haven’t found anything, have you?” she asked. Her tone was gentle. Nothing in it hinted at any malice. Zoya stilled, and it might be her exhaustion at taking care of the King, frustration at searching for the cure, her wanting to secure alliance with the Princess, she finally admitted the truth.

“Yes. We haven’t found anything. We searched the library, consulted the Healers, looking for any hint in the legends. Nothing,” she said. Admitting the truth has been freeing for her, at least there were other people who knew, other people who hopefully understood the matter. She and the others had, frankly, hit a dead end. Dimitri’s trimming could only last so long before nothing could be done to the bushes anymore.

“That’s because you have been looking at the wrong legends,” she said. They had arrived at the garden now, Ehri seated on a stone seat, her gaze following a peony that bloomed in the garden. Zoya followed her gaze, and in that moment she thought she could see Ehri’s loneliness. This girl, who had landed in a foreign country only to be wed to a King she didn’t know. Zoya stared at her, and found Ehri staring back. she averted her gaze, fixing it on the pond in front of them instead. She could swear she heard Ehri's stifled laugh. Zoya cleared her throat.

“You said we were looking at the wrong legend,” she said, turning her eyes onto her, “What do you mean?”

“You have been looking at your own legends, and that’s why you never found anything. The disease that you are looking for is not in any of Ravka’s legends. It is in Shu Han,” she answered, and Zoya scowled. If it was written in Shu Han’s, why didn’t Tolya and Tamar say anything? Surely they would know anything about the story, right? As if she knew what Zoya was thinking, Ehri smiled.

“Our country was separated by a hundred little countries. Queen Tabar reunited them under one rule, but they still have their own governance. The tale that I am about to tell you is one from our provinces,” she continued sadly. Zoya listened intently. There might be some truth behind the tale, because clearly science had no place in this magical sickness.

“There was a woman who fell in love with a man. The woman was a scholar, and the man was a farmer. She sent him a thousand of love poetries, but the farmer never recognized her love, for he saw her only as a sister. Then one day, the scholar started giving him rose petals. The farmer became more confused because he clearly didn’t ask for that. Not until he found the scholar in her home, sick and coughing up rose petals, did he realize that the rose petals were the same ones. In his panic, he knelt beside his bed, and finally realized his feelings, but it was too late. The scholar coughed up one last flower, now a fully formed one, and not just the petals. The flowers have rooted inside her lungs and hearts, and she died at his arms,” Ehri finished. Zoya stilled, processing the information Ehri just said to her. But the princess was far from done.

“That was not the only case of flowers growing inside your body. You see, roses’ growing inside your body is a sign of unrequited love. There are other tales. Tales of a merchant so rich and greedy, that he would force people to work past exhaustion. He would cheat off the scale on the market, forcing a bargain into the lowest price only so he could sell it at a higher price. One day, someone found him dead at his house, an explosion of orchids bloomed from his chest. The orchids had fed into him; the manifestation of his greed. It had taken root months and months ago, and bloomed right when he was eating his dinner,” Ehri said again, fiddling with the sleeves of her robe. She continued her stories: lilies that grew from grief and eat you from inside, just like your feelings did. In each of the stories, the flowers ended up killing the people.

“Was there no cure at all?” Zoya asked, frustrated. She had listened to Ehri’s stories with hope that it would contain a hint. Ehri laughed, it was just a story, wasn’t it? Surely the General wouldn’t believe these to be true, they were only myths. When Zoya's eyes lit with anger, she smiled. Anger would have stopped nothing, she said.

“For most cases of the disease there was no cure. The flowers ended up blossoming, killing all the people who have repressed the feelings inside them. People either died from the disease or have the petals removed,” she said. So there was another option, Zoya thought. They could remove the petals on Nikolai’s lung and then all would be solved.

“There is an even easier solution, you know,” Ehri said, her eyes fixed on Zoya. After all, the operation extracting the petals had a lot of risks, especially since it had grown inside the lungs, and was very close to his heart. “As I said, roses growing inside someone’s lung are a sign of unrequited love. The tales said that for the petals to disappear, the subject of their love has to admit their love to them. Romantic, isn’t it?”

“You are not implying what I think you are implying, don’t you?” Zoya asked. She could feel her face heating up. She knew what the rumours had been saying about her and Nikolai, but honestly she just thought of it as their usual cover-up, the one they kept since travelling all around Ravka last year. Even if she was aware of something growing between them, she wasn't ready to admit it. Ehri shook her head.

“General, he loves you. I don’t know what game you're playing, but surely you must have realized that? The flirting? The teasing? The way he stares at you? ” she asked, her eyebrows raised. Zoya sighed. She noticed that, too. She wondered if all of these things she keeps telling herself are just excuses not to admit her own feelings towards the King. But she also had her reasons for not saying anything.

“He’s a King, and Kings don’t always get to make decisions for love,” she finally said.

“Then you have to make a decision for him, and quickly, before he coughs up a fully formed flower and it’ll all be over,” Ehri replied. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied. “Thank you so much for the stories.” Zoya stood up from her seat, leaving the princess in the garden. Her mind already started forming a plan, one she hoped she wouldn’t regret in the future.

Because right now, thinking about this, her heart aches.

***


End file.
